


Whatever I Shall Meet

by StarSpray



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 03:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11282652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpray/pseuds/StarSpray
Summary: Hildifons Took has gone off adventuring, but hasn't returned. So Belladonna and Donnamira decide to go searching.





	Whatever I Shall Meet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [octopus_fool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/gifts).



_I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me,_  
_I think whoever I see must be happy._  
-Walt Whitman, "Song of the Open Road, IV"

-

Belladonna had quite a few siblings, even by hobbit standards, and while she was not particularly close to her eldest siblings—Isengrim was already twenty by the time she was born, after all—Hildifons was only eight years her senior, and he had been her protector and friend from the first, carrying her about on his back as soon as she was big enough for it, as they invented games and explored the Great Smials with Isembard and Hildibrand, when the two of them weren’t out recreating the Battle of Greenfields.

It was Hildifons who introduced her to Gandalf, when he came to visit, arriving just before her ninth birthday party. She stopped short when they stepped into the garden where he was sitting with their father. “You never said he was a _Big Person_ ,” she hissed, tugging hard on Hildifons’ sleeve. “You said he was a _wizard_.”

“Of course he’s one of the Big Folk, silly,” Hildifons said, tugging his sleeve free before she tore the cuff. He took her hand. “Who ever heard of a hobbit wizard? Come on, you have to meet him.”

Belladonna peered at Gandalf, who sat blowing smoke rings with Gerontius. He wore a long grey robe, from which his long legs stretched out over the grass, his big black boots, mud-crusted, crossed at the ankles. His beard was long and white, and his eyes were dark like coals, though it was hard to tell the color when they were crinkled up with laughter. He was decidedly odd, and his smoke rings were even odder—not the normal pale ones her father blew, that floated up and over the hedge before breaking up in the breeze: these were many different colors, and they circled around the normal ones in spite of the wind, and floated much higher toward the sky before dissolving. “Is he doing _magic?_ ” she whispered.

“Yes, of course.” Hildifons pulled her foreword. “You’ll like him, Belladonna, I promise. He tells the _best_ stories!”

When Hildifons released her hand, Belladonna ran to Gerontius. “There’s my pretty girl!” he said. “And where have you been hiding all day?”

“We’ve been out walking,” Belladonna said. “Hildifons said he knew where there were mushrooms, but he got lost in the woods.”

“I didn’t,” Hildifons protested, as he sat down on the grass between Gandalf and Gerontius. “Someone else got there first, that’s all. Hullo, Gandalf! Where did you come from this time?”

“Hullo, Hildifons,” Gandalf said between puffs on his pipe. “And who is this young lady?” His gaze was sharp and a little disconcerting, but Belladonna met it squarely, deciding in that moment she was not going to be afraid of him, no matter how odd he looked. She saw something like approval in those dark eyes.

“I’m Belladonna,” she said.

He smiled at her. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Belladonna.” And then he turned to Hildifons, to answer some very pressing questions about Elves.

 

That was more than ten years ago. Now Belladonna was twenty, and Hildifons had been gone for a year and a half—much longer than his other jaunts out of the Shire. Everyone was worried, although no one spoke of it. It was nearly his birthday, and she hated to think of him spending it somewhere alone out in the Wild. Of course, it was equally likely he’d spend it singing with Elves or something, but either way, she hoped to find him.

Which was why she and Donnamira—who had refused to be left behind on any adventure since the time she could walk, though she was still only in her teens—were strolling through the forests well north of their normal haunts around the Shire. They had a map, roughly sketched for them by Gandalf before they left the Great Smials. Belladonna suspected he intended to come after them after his visit with their father, but in the meantime she examined the map, and decided they were likely close to Lake Evendim. “There’s ruins there,” she said, pointing to a dot on the map. It was either an ink blot or a spot marking what had once been a city, and she was almost certain it was the latter. “Some great ancient city, I think. Hildifons would be interested in that.”

“ _I’m_ interested,” Donnamira said. “I’ve never seen _ruins_ before.”

They reached the ruins, which were very much real and not at all a mere inkblot, a few days later, the day after they found Lake Evendim. There were still half-standing towers, and many buildings mostly intact, but overgrown with moss and lichen. Along one block they found nearly every house overrun by rambling rose vines, likely once the pride of someone’s garden. They were heavy with dead blossoms, rotting there on the vine, still damp with the recent rain; the air was thick with their heady scent.

“Bella, look at this.” Donnamira crouched over what Belladonna had taken for a simple stone, but as she carefully wiped away years of grime and moss and dirt, a face was revealed, chipped and crumbling, but still lovely in a stern, sad kind of way. Belladonna stood with her head tilted to get a better look. There had once been a crown upon the head, but the only sign of it was a ridge about the forehead; the rest had been lost to the passage of time.

“The whole place has a sort of…melancholy feel to it,” Belladonna remarked as Donnamira straightened, wiping her hands on her skirt. “I wonder what happened to make the people leave.”

“War, maybe?” Donnamira suggested. “The Big People are always fighting one another, aren’t they?”

“Not here.” Both Belladonna and Donnamira spun around at the voice; they had thought they were utterly alone, but there in the shadows of one of the rose-covered buildings someone moved, and then emerged, revealing a woman, tall and clad in grey and brown, with a bow on her back and a sword just visible beneath her fur-lined cloak. Her dark hair was long, and fell over her shoulder in a thick braid. “War did ravage the North Kingdom, but it was slow decline long before that lead to the abandonment of Annúminas.”

“Annúminas,” Belladonna said, tasting the name on her tongue. It had an Elvish ring to it. “Is that what this place was called?”

“Yes. But I never heard that young hobbit maids were much interested in the history of Arnor.”

Belladonna drew herself up. “I’d be quite interested, if someone cared to tell me about it,” she said primly, adopting the voice that her father liked to call being On Her Dignity. “And anyway, what would you know about the interests of hobbits?”

The woman smiled. “More than you might think, Mistress…?”

“Took. Belladonna Took. And this is my sister Donnamira. Our father is the Thain, Gerontius Took, and a friend of Gandalf’s,” she added, in case Gandalf was known in these parts.

“Ah, that explains it.” The woman laughed. “I beg your pardon, Mistress Took.” She gave a sweeping bow. “I am Morwen, daughter of Brandir.”

“Are you a Ranger?” Donnamira asked.

“Yes, so they call us in the Breelands.” Morwen cast a glance at the broken statue they have uncovered. “Would you join me at my camp this evening? There is little danger here, but I would welcome the company.”

“We would be happy to,” Belladonna said. “And perhaps you can help us.”

“I will if I can. Any friend of Gandalf’s is a friend of the Dúnedain.”

“We’re looking for our brother, you see,” Belladonna said as they hurried to catch up with Morwen’s long strides. “Hildifons Took. He talked about meeting Rangers, before he left the Shire, but he hasn’t returned, and it’s been over a year.”

“Ah. I am afraid in this I cannot help you,” Morwen said. “It has been many years since I have been among my people.”

“Where have you been, then?” Donnamira asked.

“In the north.” Morwen waved a hand northwest, toward the lake. “I have dwelt for some years among the Lossoth, and am only lately returned to Eriador.”

Morwen had made her camp on the lake shore, and once Belladonna and Donnamira had set down their packs, she showed them where she had set out nets earlier in the day in the hope of catching fish. While Donnamira helped Morwen reel the nets in, Belladonna went foraging. She found blackberry brambles heavy with ripe fruit, a delightful patch of mushrooms, and many different herbs and roots they could use to flavor whatever fish they caught. She also came upon an ancient apple orchard, the trees still flourishing, although it was too early in the year for apples.

“Why don’t people live here anymore?” she asked Morwen when she returned, laden with berries and roots. “It’s wonderful land for farming.”

Morwen did not look up from the fish she was gutting. “Perhaps one day our people will return Annúminas to its former glory,” she said. It wasn’t really an answer, but her tone suggested that pursuing the subject would be fruitless. She shrugged and got out her cooking gear.

They cooked the fish with the herbs and the mushrooms, and some wild onions Belladonna had found near the old apple orchard, and washed the meal down with clear water from a nearby stream that spilled into the lake. By that time the stars were starting to come out, and both Donnamira and Belladonna got out their pipes. Belladonna offered some of her pipe weed to Morwen, but she declined. “Tell me,” she said, “why is your brother so interested in the Dúnedain?”

“He used to go to Bree quite often,” Donnamira said. “He said the Rangers told the best stories—when they could be convinced to, anyway, and when the rest of the company was in the right mood. He also went off with Gandalf a lot, and Gandalf is a friend to you Rangers, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Morwen said. “Mithrandir, we call him, the Grey Pilgrim, as the Elves do, and he is always welcome among us. But if Hildifons found one of our villages, he likely did it without Gandalf’s help. We do not build great cities anymore, but dwell in small settlements, hidden in the hills and valleys, and Gandalf has never before brought a visitor with him.” Her gaze strayed back toward Annúminas, its crumbling towers dark shapes now against the purpling sky. Overhead the Burning Bria shone like pale points of bright fire. “I could take you to my uncle,” Morwen said finally. “If any know of a Halfling dwelling among the Dúnedain, it will be him. And if he does not, perhaps my cousin will.”

“Is that allowed?” Belladonna asked, still thinking of Morwen’s talk of secrecy, wondering why it was necessary. Certainly there were dangers out in the Wild—wolves and trolls and maybe even goblins—but that didn’t seem like enough reason to hide a whole people. Certainly the Shire was not hidden, and they were safe enough; the Bounders hardly ever had trouble with outsiders.

Morwen smiled at her. “Of course it is. You are friends of Gandalf, and I do not believe any hobbit would betray us to our Enemies; truthfully I worry more for your safety. You are both very young, and the Wilds of Eriador are not as safe as the Road between Buckland and Bree, and it is through the Wilds that I must take you.”

“We aren’t afraid!” Donnamira said, straightening, jutting out her chin.

“You would not say that if you knew what we might face,” Morwen said, but she smiled. “But very well.”

They started early the next morning, when dawn was only a pale glimmer on the eastern horizon; Donnamira grumbled at the hour, but not much. The Morning Star still burned brightly as they packed up their camp, shimmering on the waters of Evendim. Morwen led them back through the ruins of Annúminas, past the rose-covered street and through others covered in thick ivy, all heavy with dew. The mossy streets were damp and cool under Belladonna’s feet, and she swung her arms as she walked, smiling as the first morning birds woke and began to sing.

That day the going was easy; in the days that followed, the journey grew more difficult, over rocky hills and through thick woods where only Morwen’s woodcraft prevented them getting completely lost. One afternoon they spent hidden in a thicket, while Morwen went on ahead. She did not return until after dark, grim-faced and with her quiver half-empty. “Goblins,” she murmured. “Scouts come down out of the north, as they do sometimes. These will take no word of potential spoils back to their masters!”

The goblins were the only real danger they encountered, and eventually Morwen looked back over her shoulder with a bright smile. “Just over this hill is my home,” she said. “I bid you welcome, Belladonna and Donnamira of the Shire!”

It was a small village, as Morwen had said, a cluster of homes inside thick wooden walls, with a gate at each end. In the middle of the day they were both open, and the place was bright with life and laughter. Somewhere someone played a flute, and as they approached someone else lifted their voice in song. The words were fair, but in the Elvish tongue, so Belladonna could not understand them.

As they approached the gates, a tall figure appeared in them, hand raised to shield his eyes from the bright sun. “Is that Morwen?” he cried. “Morwen Brandiriel, we thought you frozen in the northern wastes!”

“Not I, cousin,” Morwen laughed. The man strode forward, and they embraced.

But as they parted, the man saw Belladonna and Donnamira, and he laughed. “Forgive me, mistresses. I bid you welcome! But what are two young hobbits doing so far from the Shire or from Bree?”

“These are Belladonna and Donnamira Took, daughters of Gerontius, and friends of Mithrandir,” Morwen said. “I found them exploring the ruins of Annúminas.” And to Belladonna and Donnamira, she said, “This is my cousin Arador, son of Argonui our Chieftain.”

“Took!” Arador exclaimed. “I might have known.” He bowed deeply to them. “Are you seeking, by chance, one Hildifons Took?”

“Yes!” Belladonna exclaimed. “Hildifons is our brother! Is he here?”

“He was, and if you had arrived but a little sooner your search would have ended. He left three days ago, going east with the sons of Elrond. Where they intend to go, and for what reason, I cannot say. But Hildifons dwelled for many months with us, and fought beside us when a raiding party came down out of the north last fall. His courage and sure aim saved the lives of my parents, and many others.”

Donnamira stamped her foot in frustration. “You mean we came all this way only to miss him by a few _days?_ Confound and bebother that _ridiculous_ hobbit!”

They stayed two weeks in the village of the Dúnedain, as guests of Chieftain Argonui and his wife Glamren. Donnamira made quick and easy friends among the other village children, and taught them hobbit games, while Belladonna spent much time with Glamren and the other Wise Women of the village, learning much of their lore and herb craft. And in return she traded recipes and secrets to proper hobbit cooking, whether on the road or at home on the hearth.

And then Gandalf arrived. He was greeted with as much pleasure as in the Shire, but with rather more honor, Belladonna noted. She wondered, for the first time, what it was that he did when he was not smoking with her father or setting off fireworks at hobbit parties. He laughed long and loud at Donnamira’s indignant relating of just how close they’d come to finding Hildifons there. He leaned on his staff, eyes twinkling as he gazed down at Donnamira, who glowered up at him with her fists on her hips. “But you have had an adventure of your own, I see, Miss Donnamira, so the journey cannot be said to have been wasted. Come tell me all about it. And after I’ve rested my sore feet a while, I think I shall escort the two of you home—or at least as far as Bree. I have business in the east and cannot go tramping all the way back to the Shire just yet.”

“I’ll let Belladonna tell you about it,” Donnamira said. “She’s better at that sort of thing. But what sort of business takes you east? Are you going to look for Hildifons?”

“Certainly not! I daresay he’s safe enough, in the company of Elrond’s sons, and anyway I have bigger things to worry about than chasing after stray hobbits—even particularly adventurous Tooks! But if I see him, I shall tell him how his sisters miss him. Perhaps that will entice his feet to turn homeward.”

This satisfied Donnamira. She disappeared into the fields with her new friends while Belladonna sat with Gandalf in the sunshine, blowing smoke rings skyward. “What are the bigger things you worry about, Gandalf?” she asked. “I don’t know why I never wondered, before.”

“You had no reason to. And you still don’t,” he replied. “My comings and goings have little enough to do with you, Belladonna.”

“Well _that’s_ not a very satisfactory answer.”

“It is the only one you will get! I’m more interested in your doings, anyway. I’m certainly glad it was Annúminas you stumbled upon, and not Fornost—that is an evil place, even now.”

Belladonna told him about their journey, and their meeting with Morwen among the ruins. “I just wish we’d been in time to find Hildifons,” she sighed when she finished. “Do you know where he might be going? Arador doesn’t have any idea.”

“Rivendell, perhaps, but of course I know no more than Arador does. The sons of Elrond have been known to travel far and wide. But I promised your mother I would see you back to safe, civilized lands, and that is what I intend to do—so don’t think of running off to Rivendell yourself. You are only barely into your tweens, after all.”

Morwen went with them when they departed at last for Bree, and the journey was a merry one, though uncomfortable at times, for it rained for several days. All of them were happy to see the lights on Bree-hill in the evening, and happier still to settle in at the Prancing Pony for beer and good food and a chance to dry out their damp things. The hobbits of Bree were used to the occasional visitor from Buckland, but were astonished to see two hobbits as young as Belladonna and Donnamira so far from home, and shook their heads in disapproval. Belladonna ignored them, but kicked Donnamira under the table when she stuck her tongue out at a particularly grouchy old gaffer across the room.

“Well,” said Gandalf, finishing off his beer and setting the tankard down with a thunk on the table, “this is where I leave you. I trust you won’t get into any trouble on the Road back to Buckland!”

“Of course not,” Belladonna said. “We haven’t gotten into any real trouble at all, on this outing.”

“I would still like to visit Elves, though,” Donnamira said.

“Keep your eyes open, then,” Gandalf said. “They pass though the Shire more often than you think.” Donnamira brightened, and Belladonna felt her own interest piqued. But Gandalf only laughed when they pressed him, and would not say any more than that.

Morwen had gone to speak with a group of Dwarves in the corner, and now she returned to their table with one of them. “This is Dís daughter of Thráin of the Blue Mountains,” Morwen said. “She and her company are returning home to the west, and have two extra ponies Belladonna and Donnamira may ride as far as Hobbiton.”

Belladonna hopped down from her seat and bowed. “Belladonna Took, at your service!” she said.

“At yours and your family’s,” Dís replied with her own bow, beads of gold and silver clicking together in her neatly-braided beard. “You and your sister are welcome to travel with us, if you do not mind rising early, for we leave before dawn tomorrow.”

“Before _dawn!_ ” Donnamira exclaimed, aghast. Gandalf snorted.

“We don’t mind at all,” Belladonna said, blithely ignoring her sister. She smiled at Dís, who smiled back, dark eyes crinkling. “Thank you very much!”


End file.
